


A Collection of Fenhawke

by sterlingstars



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Heartbreak, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 17:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3904171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a compilation of little drabbles from tumblr :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Night

**Author's Note:**

> These are all rather small one-shots from my tumblr. Speaking of, come visit me! You can find me under the url queer-beans :)

It’s all heated, soft whispers out of earshot, kisses in the shadows, softly brushed hands as they pass each other.

But in the night… it gets more interesting.

Fenris’s marks are sensitive to the touch, and Hawke takes advantage of it. Long, laving licks with his tongue, tracing the marks, makes Fenris gasp and arch his back, thin fingers clawing at the sheets or Hawke’s skin, depending. His moans are keen, high-pitched, frantic, as Hawke lets his tongue travel across them, his skin covered in gooseflesh.

He cries out when Hawke bites, giving the man satisfaction. His hands, already eager and searching, grab the back of Hawke’s head, bringing their mouths together in an angry clash that’s all teeth and noses and moans being swallowed. Fenris gasps into his mouth, swollen lips parted as he pants. Hawke grins, brushing hair from his eyes, before letting his mouth wander to Fenris’s neck. He mouths the marks there, and Fenris pulls his hair, making him moan.

“That’s good, damn you,” Fenris gasps as Hawke continues his oral assault. 

Hawke hums in agreement as he reaches for the bedside table, plucking the bottle of oil off with unsteady fingers. 

“Turn over,” he rasps, and Fenris immediately complies, flipping onto his stomach and putting his arse forward like an offering. 

Hawke’s eyes wonder the expanse of the elf’s back, tracing over the patterns of the markings and the contours of the muscles, every ridge and curve already familiar to him. He quickly and sloppily lubricates himself with the oil, tossing the bottle back onto the bed before positioning himself behind Fenris. He runs his hands across his back, making him moan, before putting his hands on Fenris’s cheeks and spreading them.

He lays his cock against Fenris’s hole, and starts thrusting, simply sliding against it. Fenris gasps, immediately squirming, panting. Hawke shudders a bit and moans, bending forward over Fenris and kissing all over his back, letting his tongue find the markings on it and lick. Fenris moans deeply beneath him, letting out a breathy noise whenever Hawke’s tongue finds the line of a mark. He bites softly at one, and Fenris’s resulting moans prompt him to thrust a little harder. Fenris shudders beneath him, whining.

“Hawke, for the love of Andraste, if you don’t actually fuck me I might have to lynch you,” Fenris says breathily.

“Love it when you talk like that,” Hawke says with a chuckle.

Fenris grunts, which turns into a cry of pleasure as one of Hawke’s fingers makes its way inside of him, pumping quickly. Fenris pushes back into the thrusts, clutching one of the pillows and moaning loudly into it. Another finger goes in, and he makes a slightly high-pitched noise, shuddering. His thighs are trembling, and Hawke grins a little, moving his unoccupied hand to Fenris’s cock, fondling and stroking it a little. 

“Hawke, p-please,” he gasps, squirming. 

More than happy to oblige him, Hawke removes his fingers and quickly replaces them with his cock. Fenris gasps loudly, pushing into it and moaning. His thrusts start off slow and soft, but quickly become deeper, faster, and more aggressive. His hands hold onto Fenris’s hips as he fucks him, the bed rocking steadily beneath them. 

“Harder,” Fenris gasps through gritted teeth, and he doesn’t have to tell Hawke twice.

His thrusts pick up, harder and deeper, his hips meeting Fenris’s flesh with every thrust. Their moans are nearly in synch, and Fenris is trembling, knuckles white as he grips the sheets, all the while with Hawke steadily pounding into him. 

“H-hawke, I’m….”

“I know,” he soothes. “Come on, then. Come for me.”

“Oh, gods above…”

“Come for me, Fenris. Go on. Come for me.” His words are a little slurred, running together as he picks up the pace of this thrusts even further, Fenris shaking beneath him. 

Hawke thrusts once more, hard, and Fenris nearly screams, clenching around him as he comes. Hawke follows right after, very quickly losing his composure and reaching his own climax in a matter of seconds after his lover. He cries out, thrusting a little still, riding out his orgasm, before sliding out and falling over next to Fenris, who’s red-faced and breathless. 

Hawke draws him close, gathering the thinner man into his arms, and planting kisses across his face and neck, rubbing against him. Fenris murmurs what seems like tired noises, and Hawke smiles, hands gently stroking his lover’s back. He kisses Fenris’s neck, tonguing over one of the marks and making him shiver.

“I like it when you do that,” he murmurs sleepily.

Hawke grins. “I know.”


	2. Making Love

Of course, it takes a long while to get used to things. Fenris had never been touched gently- Danaerius was not a fan of playing nice. On the nights he bid Fenris come to him, the end result wielded bruises, teeth marks, and sore limbs.

But of course, Hawke just _had_ to be different.

The first time he ever allowed Hawke to touch him in such a manner, it was almost like a ritual. Hawke touched Fenris as if we were a newborn babe, gently brushing his fingers across skin and stopping every few moments to timidly ask “Is this alright?”. Were he not so baffled that someone could touch him so tenderly, Fenris would have smiled.

When he bared himself, eyes cast to the floor, a flush lighting his face, he was forced to tear his eyes from his feet at the sound of a breathless gasp from Hawke. When he looked up, Hawke was looking at him as if… as if he were something beautiful. Never in his life had he been looked at that way before- he was so used to eyes that were filled with scorn, with mistrust; eyes that raved over his body like he was a particularly nice novelty in the window of a shop. But Hawke did not look at him like an object… rather, like… a person.

His hands were soft and gentle, occasionally grabbing but never latching, and always hesitant, pausing, hovering, waiting for approval. His mouth was just the same.

Fenris found himself relaxing. That alone was a miracle. How long had it been? He couldn’t ever recall feeling relaxed in such a situation, actually. Usually, anyone touching him sent warning bells off in his head, his body responding with stiffness and rejection.

But his body seemed to gravitate towards Hawke’s touch, his hips rolling forward as Hawke gently placed a kiss just below his navel. He drew in a sharp breath as Hawke kissed lower and lower, stopping just above his shaft.

“May I?” He asked quietly, warm eyes gentle and dark with arousal.

“I…. y-yes, of course,” Fenris breathed. “I… yes.”

Hawke pressed the gentlest of kisses to the soft skin of his thigh, sending a shiver through him. And then, oh merciful Maker, his mouth was on him. He’d never had this done to him before- he’d lost count of how many times he’d had to do it for Danaerius, but never was the favor returned. And of course, it was nothing like what he’d associated it with- a chore, a job. This was pleasant, soft, tender even.

Hawke was so gentle, so loving, and genuinely enthusiastic as he sucked, laving attention on Fenris that he’d never had before. He alternated with gentle licks across his shaft before taking him in nearly as far as he could go, making Fenris’s toes curl up and the breath escape his lungs in a rush. It was an entirely new experience, and Fenris wasn’t completely sure how to deal with it. Hawke seemed to know and enjoy what he was doing.

All of the attention was on Fenris. Hawke looked up at him, their gazes meeting as he sucked, and Fenris sucked in a deep breath, a wave of pleasure running through him at the sight. Hawke popped off and slid forward before kissing Fenris, their mouths meeting in a slow, lazy kiss that seared his mouth. He buried his hands in Hawke’s hair, fingers tightening in the dark strands as Hawke kissed down his neck.

They moved together then, Hawke thrusting his hips so that their cocks slid together in a smooth rhythm. Fenris’s lashes fluttered, a moan escaping him, and Hawke chuckled at the sound.

That was the first time Fenris realized that it was possible to laugh and make love all at once.

He was a bit timid to use that terminology- “making love” - it implied that there was love between himself and Hawke. Which would be absurd, right? But truthfully, there was no other way to describe it. Hawke was being so tender, so gentle, treating Fenris like a prince. It was almost reverent, the way he touched him, like giving Fenris pleasure was an honor, a rite.

Fenris let his hands go to Hawke’s back, running over the toned muscles. He dug his fingers in a little as Hawke thrusted, moaning into his ear. That noise alone was enough to set him off- it was deep, and rumbling, and Fenris felt it right behind his navel. He gasped a little as Hawke mouthed at the markings on his neck, raising gooseflesh.

“Maker, you feel _wonderful_ ,” Hawke rasped into Fenris’s ear.

A flush lit his face, and he gasped a little at a thrust, his hips undulating in time with Hawke’s movements. The friction was fantastic, and Fenris felt a slow burn starting in his lower abdomen.

“Do I, now?”

“Yes,” Hawke breathed. “Maker’s breath, yes. Fenris, you…. Maker, Fenris.”

That hit a nerve. Fenris swallowed hard, fingers digging into Hawke’s shoulderblades. He leaned up a little, and Hawke caught on, bending forward to kiss him, his hands going to Fenris’s face. The kiss quickly became heated, and Fenris was flushed, feverish. Suddenly, he couldn’t get enough of Hawke’s skin to touch his own, couldn’t get enough.

He picked up the pace, moving his own hips faster, and Hawke moaned deeply, shuddering a little. Fenris allowed a small grin to cross his lips before they went to Hawke’s ear.

“Talk to me some more,” he said in a low voice. “I like it when you talk. Please.”

“Fenris… Maker’s wounds, you’re so beautiful.”

He blanched a little at that. Hawke called him… beautiful? Oh, this was turning out vastly different that what he’d imagined. This was… new. Very new.

“You’re so good, Fenris. So lovely. You feel wonderful, just so wonderful.”

Fenris shuddered, silently clinging to Hawke as he babbled into his ear, not entirely coherent. Fenris kept hearing the words “good”, “beautiful”, “lovely”. Hawke landed kisses on Fenris’s skin between words, and picked up the speed of his thrusts. They got more frantic and less smooth, and Hawke was steadily moaning and whispering into Fenris’s neck. They clung to each other, and Hawke looked up at Fenris, his eyes heavy and dark, and met his gaze right as he came, shuddering.

He was warm, and soft, and Fenris found himself rubbing Hawke’s back ad he rode out his orgasm, whispering soft nonsense to him the entire time. Fenris was content with that- watching the look of bliss on Hawke’s face as he settled into the pleasure, but Hawke seemed to have different plans, because before Fenris was prepared, Hawke’s mouth was on him again.

His back arched and a positively guttural moan escaped him, hips rising to meet Hawke’s mouth. He gripped the blankets with pale knuckles, his toes curling.

“I’m n-not going to l-last very long,” he gasped, shooting Hawke a glance.

“Good,” Hawk said, before licking a stripe up his shaft and making him want to sing. “Look at me.”

Fenris did as he was asked, then, looking down between his legs, where Hawke was looking straight at him right as he took him into his mouth again. He had one hand on the base of his shaft, and his mouth was on the top. Fenris gasped, toes curling up tight, and Hawke looked straight at him the entire time. The pressure in his abdomen built, and he gasped.

“Hawke. Hawke, I-I’m…”

Hawke nodded, then, still looking at him.

“Come on, then,” he said gently, his voice low. “Let it out. It’s alright. I want you to.”

Fenris swallowed, moaning. He was close… and Hawke was so gentle, so encouraging. So, he just… let it happen. Hawke sucked, and he was done for, loosing a throaty cry as he came. Hawke popped off and gently stroked him through his orgasm while Fenris shuddered beneath him, eyes closed. When he opened them again, Hawke was leaning over him, a gentle grin on his face.

“I…. that was…”

“I know.”

Hawke grinned and kissed him, gently, deeply. Fenris melted into the kiss, his entire body feeling relaxed and warm. Hawke pulled him into his arms, holding him close and kissing his neck.

For the first time in a while, he slept peacefully.


	3. Here Lies The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I.... I'm sorry. This one's gonna hurt.

Everything feels as if it’s in slow motion.

Hawke blinks slowly, his lids feeling heavy, weighted. Every step is a struggle. His breathing is labored, his body gently aching. There is death all around him, the Nightmare having been defeated. He’s covered in ichor and Maker knows what else. 

He stares and stares at the empty spot where everyone left, wondering for a moment if this was all worth it.

“So this is how I die, then. Interesting. At least no one ever guess this outcome.”

Surely, it would have been darkspawn that killed him. Or mad Templars. But not this. The Fade is a strange, dangerous place. Mysterious, unknown, constantly changing to try and hurt him.

He’s not going to last very long here, and he knows it. 

Hawke walks, but for how long, he could never say. There are whispers all around him, the emerald light of the Fade shimmering menacingly. He keeps picturing the Inquisitor’s face- the panic, the fear, the distress. He was left behind, and everyone hated it. He could see it clear as day in their faces. But this was his choice. Was there really any other way to do this, anyway? At least Stroud was needed. There was no one else to take charge of the Wardens after the disaster in The Western Approach. No one who could really be trusted, anyway.

“You need to rest.”

His spine goes rigid, his heart seeming to lodge itself into his throat. He swallows, hard, clenching his fists very, very hard. 

“So this is how they choose to torture me.”

“I’m only asking you to rest, Hawke,” Fenris’s voice says gently behind him.

He doesn’t want to turn, but he does, anyway. And there he is- Fenris looks just as he did the day Hawke left him. His eyes are soft, his mouth in that line it always goes into whenever he scolds Hawke. His brow is furrowed, his arms gently crossed. 

“You look exhausted. You should slow down for a bit.”

“Don’t do this,” he says weakly, his voice rough. “Please. Haven’t I been through enough?”

“You have,” Fenris says softly. “So now it’s time for you to rest. Come now, Hawke- I’ll watch over you while you sleep.”

“Maker’s breath, you’re convincing. But that’s a no.”

He has the nerve to look hurt. His face softens, and he reaches for Hawke, then- but he pulls away, shaking his head. It’s tempting, to let what is obviously a demon touch him under the guise of his lover, but he knows what will happen if he does. The Fade Fenris frowns slightly, lowering his hand.

“I’ll stay with you, then,” he says.

Hawke doesn’t have the strength to say no. It may not be the real Fenris, but it’s close enough. He will do, until Hawke meets his end here. Or until he falls for the demon’s tricks. Either way, he presses forward, the Fade-crafted Fenris silent at his side. They walk together, the Fade shifting as it’s wont to do around them. Hawke tries to keep his mind on neutral things- the smell of seawater around Kirkwall, the taste of his favorite ale at The Hanged Man, the scent of the fauna in the garden at Skyhold. He rather liked it there- the clean, cool mountain air, the simple but vibrant garden, the bright skies above it. He wonders if Fenris would have liked it.

He clears that thought away rather quickly.

Fade-Fenris seems to sense that he was thinking of him, and looks at him for a moment as they walk. When Hawke doesn’t say anything, he looks ahead again. Somehow, their silence is companionable. Which is… odd. But Hawke keeps his guard up. Demons are rather tricky. 

He presses on, fatigue biting at him insistently. He aches, and longs to pause for rest, but the demon at his side keep his feet moving. Eventually, his brain stops thinking about it, and it is mindless, occurring seemingly as naturally as his breathing. The way he sees it, if he stops walking, either the demon will get him, something nastier will get him first, or he’ll simply never get back up again. So the better option is to keep moving.

Time is meaningless. It stretches and moves, but it doesn’t change. At least, it doesn’t appear to. Hawke’s body aches even more, now. Fade-Fenris walks beside him still, so far not trying any more tricks. Hawke is overly cautious, however, constantly glancing at the demon out of the corner of his eye. 

Of course, the simple peace doesn’t last all that long. Or maybe it has- it’s so difficult to tell, here. Either way, there is a nasty-looking demon heading towards Hawke, claws and teeth bared. As weary as he is, he resigns himself to fight it, getting into position with his staff. 

Everything happens so quickly, then- slashing and screams, a strange, searing warmth spreading through Hawke’s abdomen. When he opens his eyes, he’s resting against a rock, and Fenris’s eyes are looking straight at him. They’re soft, and so familiar. Hawke begins to cry, then, feeling ridiculous but unable to stop it. 

“Stop,” he chokes out. “I’m begging, you, demon- enough is enough. Let me be or kill me. No more of this, p-please.”

He’s wounded, he realizes as soon as he begins talking. If the demon doesn’t kill him, his injury soon will. He’s not sure which death he prefers. 

“I’ll make it stop,” Fenris says gently. His voice is like a cool breeze on a summer afternoon, and Hawke is overwhelmed. Fenris touches his face. He cries harder.

“F-fenris…”

“Shh. Be still, now. I’ll help you. I’m here to help you. What do you need?”

Hawke takes a shuddering breath, his hands shaking. He feels so weak. So tired. He gives in, then, and reaches out for Fenris, touching his face. His skin feels the same, nearly, but not quite. It’s good enough, though.

“Fenris… Please. I want.. I want you to do it. There’s no other way.”

He nods solemnly, pulling the dagger off Hawke’s belt. He bends forward, their foreheads touching, and Hawke cries still. 

“I love you,” he gasps. “Do not ever forget that. I love you. And I will see you again.”

Hawke kissed him just as the dagger is plunged into his chest. His last breath is breathed into Fenris’s mouth.

As Hawke closes his eyes for the final time, Mercy makes its way back through the Fade, the man’s taste still on its mouth.


	4. Some Like It Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the last chapter, have some more indulgently filthy smut. Please remember that I love you.

Hot breath on his neck, fingers digging, clinging, searching across his heated skin for something, though he does not know what. Moans- deep, throaty, needy, raw, sliding into his ears like water. It should feel natural, this familiar dance of theirs, but each time is new, fresh, kisses being seared into his skin like a newborn babe hitting the air for the first time.

It is so easy to end up here, Fenris hot and tight around him, skin to skin and hands all over. His mouth goes to Fenris’s neck as he looses a deep moan that Hawke feels rumbling in the elf’s throat as he kisses and nips it. 

“I love you,” Hawke whispers against his throat as he thrusts, his voice husky. 

Fenris manages a gasp in response. Red silk, tied artfully to a wrist, brushes against Hawke’s skin as Fenris finally manages to form the words of his response. 

“H-Hawke.”

“I know,” he soothes with a soft groan. 

Fenris’s skin is hot beneath him, their hips meeting with each thrust. He’s deep, going in as far as he can, and Fenris shakes around him, lithe muscles trembling with each stroke into him. They’re a hot mess, slick and gasping around each other, hands grasping at sweat-drenched skin and taut muscles. He loves being this way, tangled in his lover, not knowing where he ends and Fenris begins.

Fenris’s eyes flutter, his head tilted back and his throat exposed as he moans raggedly. Hawke kisses the exposed skin before licking a stripe across it, following the straight line of his lyrium markings. Fenris shudders and his nails dig into Hawke’s shoulder blades a little. Hawke moans, and Fenris clenches around him a little, making him gasp.

“Do that again,” he gasps, and Fenris smirks a little before complying. 

They both moan, shuddering a little, and Hawke thrusts a little harder, spurned on by the deep-seated pleasure in his belly. Fenris makes ragged noises, clinging to Hawke, nails digging into his skin wherever they can find purchase. The bed rocks a little beneath them, and Hawke is panting, breathlessly thrusting.

“Hawke, please,” Fenris moans. “Please I’m so close, please.”

Hawke nods, not trusting himself to speak coherently at the moment. He thrusts a little harder, quickening his pace, and Fenris is coming apart beneath him, a stream of incoherent noises leaving his mouth, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Hawke is groaning, pule pounding, as he pounds into Fenris, lost to the rhythm and the pleasure.

“F-fuck,” Fenris manages to gasp out, and then he’s coming, white streaks painting his abdomen as he clenches tightly around Hawke. 

“Maker…” Hawke groans, and he loses it then, his orgasm following before Fenris’s is even over. 

He goes to pull out, and Fenris stops him.

“Do it,” he moans. 

That really does it, and he’s coming- hot, hard, moans tumbling from his mouth as he thrusts through his orgasm, Fenris writhing beneath him as his own climax dies down. Hawke shudders, taking a deep breath as he finally pulls out, Fenris red-faced and spent beneath him.

He kisses Fenris, then, hard, and they’re breathless, hands clinging to whatever stretch of skin they can find, before they collapse and Hawke rolls off, bringing Fenris into his arms and holding him tightly against his chest. He plants a steady stream of kisses over the back of Fenris’s neck, who sighs in comfort and nuzzles back into him.

“We ought to get cleaned up,” Fenris mutters.

“Yeah, but… in a minute.”

Fenris chuckles.


End file.
